Yard Sale of Thoughts

After Emily Dickinson & Laura Jean Anderson

I've already gone through it:
taken the quiet-the-mind pills,
endured the therapist's lisp,
worked through withdrawals
without the will to quit.

You make sense.
The energy you omit.
makes me florescent. 
I'm attracted to you,
your scent,
your charged wit.

The broken blood vessels, 
I'm willing to forget. 
Give someone else a turn
in your horseshoe pit. 
But I'm a serial sunbather
ready for another burn.

You're back in season,
so I'll glean 
the under-picked field
oppose the worm
to see what forbidden fruit 
this summer might yield.

©2023 | K. F. Hartless

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Borrowed bit from Emily Dickinson’s Bloom—is Result—to meet a Flower